


『 afternoon 』 kamukura izuru’s baked goods

by ikmkr



Series: kamukoma winter week 2019 [3]
Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, Super Dangan Ronpa 2
Genre: #kamukomawinterweek2019, Established Relationship, M/M, Post-Despair (Dangan Ronpa), Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, kamukomawinterweek2019
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-19
Updated: 2019-12-19
Packaged: 2021-02-26 00:40:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 996
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21854641
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ikmkr/pseuds/ikmkr
Summary: prompt three: bakingizuru takes nagito to work with him
Relationships: Kamukura Izuru/Komaeda Nagito
Series: kamukoma winter week 2019 [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1574095
Comments: 3
Kudos: 55





	『 afternoon 』 kamukura izuru’s baked goods

**Author's Note:**

> for kamukoma week 2019
> 
> hello kamukoma discord it is me

Today, Izuru took Nagito to work with him.

It was a lovely day for it. The sun was out, and it cast a lot of natural light through the glass front of the bakery, the afternoon light giving a golden, hazy quality to the bakery’s orange walls, plush stool seats and marble counters. Outside, the scenery was delightfully Christmas-feeling, snow drifting around in the wind aimlessly and the evergreens in the square done in garland and tidings by the city. Pedestrian traffic bustled; these were last-minute shoppers and tourists, or maybe even young couples on a Christmas-time date. In the park nearby, children frolicked, the beginnings of a snowball fight brewing.

Izuru and Nagito were safe inside, the heater keeping the shop to a cozy seventy degrees. Inside the shop were a couple of patrons; Izuru pressed a few wrapped pastries into their hands as Nagito sheepishly waved, a guest to Izuru’s normally solitary occupation. The customers sat at the counter; they must have been new, as they added their names to the graffiti counter, grabbing for permanent markers out of the cup. 

(The graffiti counter was a counter backboard Izuru had reserved for patrons to draw on. Izuru secretly prided himself on offering an open creative space for his visitors.)

While their guests ate, Izuru turned to the back end of the shop. He was itching to test out a new holiday cookie, and he wanted Nagito to help him. What came to mind was a peppermint cookie, paired with chocolate chips; it’d be a more minty twist on the classic chocolate chip standard. His mouth watered at the idea. He swallowed his saliva, not ready to give away his excitement yet. 

“Nagito, dearest,” Izuru called offhandedly. “Can you get me a large mixing bowl? Underneath the counter, thank you.”

With a grunt, Nagito heaved the large steel bowl onto the countertop. “Here. What is this for?”

”We’re making cookies, you and I,” Izuru offered. “Can you get the flour? Large bag in the floor cupboard next to the fridge.”

”But Izuru, my luck isn’t that great when it comes to baking—“

Izuru strode over in two large strides and pressed a finger to his dandelion lover’s lips. “None of that,” he protested. “Since we have been living together, you have not experienced as many luck incidents, have you?”

”That is true, but—“

”But nothing. My luck cancels yours. There will be no disaster today.”

”Kamukura...”

”Hush. It will be fine.” Izuru pressed a chaste kiss to Nagito’s cheek. “I have absolute faith in you.”

And with that, he took the bag of flour from Nagito’s hands and headed over to the bowl. Nagito watched Izuru as he flitted around the room, quite like a hummingbird, grabbing various ingredients off of shelves in a manic, methodical way, using work as a medium to drive his worries away. Nagito joined him; Izuru only paused to scribble out a list of things for him to grab before going back to work. 

When Nagito returned the last ingredient, Izuru was sifting together dry ingredients in plain view of the patrons. A few had come up to watch, eyes following the movement of his sifting fork as it ran through a mixture of flour, baking soda and salt. “Nagito,” he greeted. “Can you please mix together the butter and sugar? You will need an electronic mixer for this one.”

”As in the automatic ones?”

”Yes.”

”Oh dear,” Nagito worried, grasping at his hair. “I am not good at using those—“

Izuru gave the smallest of gentle smiles in reassurance. “It will be fine. You are in control, not the mixer.”

Nagito sighed worriedly, and set up the bowl. Carefully, he emptied the required amount of butter and sugars into the steel receptacle, and with hesitation, gripped the mixer in his hands and positioned it over the bowl. It hummed to life, and for a minute there, it was smooth sailing. Suddenly, his grip shook—

A pair of cool, stiff hands closed over his own, and he felt Kamukura’s breath against his neck. “I am here,” he whispered. Nagito turned to him in gratitude, and Izuru smiled again.

”During my first few weeks,” Izuru admitted, voice soft, “I was still rather new to this town, and I had not really settled down yet. I was still unadjusted. You remember how I was.”

Nagito could remember. His memory strayed over a far more fearful Izuru, fresh off of Jabberwock Island, required by Naegi and company to be supervised almost daily by Hajime.

”I was making batter for cupcakes, and a group of young men stopped by for pastries. I was so alarmed that I dropped the mixer in the bowl. The batter splashed all over me.”

The image of a beleaguered Izuru covered in cupcake batter elicited a dry chuckle from Nagito, and Izuru smiled wanly at his response.

”It is nerve-wracking. It is almost alive. But you learn that the mixer only goes where you let it go. You hold on. You dig your heels in. It obeys.”

Izuru drew away from Nagito to put some eggs in the bowl. Nagito found that the mixer was far easier to guide with a strong grip. Izuru nodded solemnly, proud. 

With the addition of the flour, some chocolate chips, and a bit of mint and vanilla extract to taste, the batter was done. With love and care, the young couple rolled out each cookie, and with finality, put each cookie-laden tray in the oven. Nagito wiped the sweat from his brow, brushing his soft hair from his eyes. The only catastrophe possible now was a stove fire.

With good time, the scent of mint slowly overtook the little bakery. Izuru respectfully regarded the heavenly-smelling cookies as he pulled the trays from the oven. After a few minutes, he picked one up, and took a contemplative bite.

”So? Did I gloriously ruin them?” Nagito asked, worried.

”No,” Izuru responded. “They taste like love.”

**Author's Note:**

> we die like men


End file.
